Needs
by WriteOnForever
Summary: "He's not your son."
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't work for DC.

Needs

Mento stomped aboard the ship, pinching the bridge of his nose in anger and frustration. As the rest of the Doom Patrol followed behind him, he snuck a glance toward the newest and youngest teammate. Beast Boy trudged next to Elasti-Girl, ears dropping, eyes concentrated on the floor. The woman had a comforting arm around his shoulders as she steered him toward the back of the ship.

"Beast Boy."

The child froze at the sound of his leader's harsh voice. "Yes, sir?"

"Come here."

Wordlessly, he obeyed, sending a desperate look at Elasti-Girl. A pained expression crossing her face, she turned to Mento, who slightly shook his head. The child could not hide behind her, not this time.

"Do you know why I'm angry with you?"

"I disobeyed," he mumbled.

"Speak _louder_," he insisted.

"I disobeyed," he repeated, his voice breaking on the last syllable. "I'm sorry, Mento, sir, please—"

"_Sorry_ isn't good enough! You cannot ignore me when I give you orders!"

"Aw, c'mon, he's new at this," Robotman interjected.

"And it's not like he's not trying," Negative Man added.

"That isn't the point." Roughly grabbing Beast-Boy by the chin, he forced eye contact. "When I give you an order, you follow it. Without question, without hesitance. You want to stay on this team? You do as I say. I will _not _tolerate insubordination. Do you understand?"

Mouth opening and closing rapidly, the boy finally offered, "N-no, sir."

"_No_?" he boomed, fingers inadvertently tightening.

"I-I-I-I d-don't know what insubordination means," he whimpered, a shudder rippling through his small body.

"Let him go, Steve." Elasti-Girl, unable to tolerate this any longer, approached the two. When the leader retracted his hand, she knelt to the child's height and gently explained, "Insubordination means disobedience. What Mento is trying to say is that you have to listen better."

Nodding furiously, he promised, "I'll always listen, sir! I promise!"

"Good." Cradling him in her arms, she faced the stoned-faced man. "See, Steve? Everything's settled."

With that, she carried the eight-year-old to her seat, where he happily situated himself in her lap for the ride home. Ignoring the smirk Robotman was sending him, Mento flew the ship back to headquarters, concentrating on his piloting rather than the scene that had just played out. As soon as they landed, Beast Boy was on his feet and racing for the exit, but before Mento could scold him, Elasti-Girl followed him, a smile on her face. "Go upstairs and bathe, Garfield," she told him, pushing the door open. "Then I'll be up to read you a story."

"Can I have a snack?" he questioned, leaping down.

"Maybe. I'll have to think about it." The rest of the conversation faded as they entered the base.

Scowling, Mento stood, even more displeased.

"Aw, our poor leader is sad that the string bean gets to spend more time with his woman than he does," Robotman teased.

"It's not that," he retorted hotly. "She babies him too much."

"He's eight," Negative Man pointed out.

"He's a hero-in-training," the telekinetic corrected. "And he should be treated as such."

The others shared a look. "Steve, tell me you're not going to say anything stupid to Rita," Robotman pleaded.

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you say whatever you think," Negative Man said, "no matter how bad it sounds."

Rolling his eyes, he countered, "I know how to speak to people, Larry."

The mummy snorted, muttering, "Sure," before he, too, left for base. Robotman was right behind him, but not before he advised, "If you're going to talk to her, try to be sensitive, okay?"

"Sensitive?" the hero grumbled to himself, trailing behind his teammates. "I'm _always _sensitive."

Accepting the sheer falseness of that sentence, he prepared himself for the conversation. He would need to choose his words very, very carefully.

When he saw Rita emerge from the boy's room, he called her name. Glancing down, she descended the steps, inquiring, "What's up, Steve?"

"We need to talk," he told her, gesturing to his office.

"What about?" she asked warily.

"Beast Boy."

"Are you still annoyed over what happened?"

_Sensitive. You have to be sensitive._

"He's young. He's going to make mistakes."

_Don't make her angry. No, more importantly, don't upset her._

"It's only the second time in the field; he's only been practicing his powers for a few weeks now. You can't expect him to be perfect."

_Diplomatic. Be diplomatic—_

"He's not your son."

So much for diplomacy.

Rita stared at him, eyes wide, but if it was from shock or pain, he couldn't quite decipher. "What?"

"He's not your son," he repeated, opting for a straight-forward approach because he was past the point of no return. "And you can't treat him like he is. He's just a teammate."

"Just a teammate?" she repeated. "He is a _child_, Steve. A child who lost his family when he was only six. A child who needs to be loved."

"We're heroes, Rita. He's a hero—at least, becoming one. We cannot afford to form close connections."

"You're a hypocrite," she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. "_We _have a close connection."

"That's different," he objected. "When we're in the midst of battle, we're nothing more than teammates. The relationship you have with him, you don't do that. You put him first above everything. And you coddling him won't be beneficial."

"He needs me," she growled, her dark brown eyes flashing with anger. "He needs a family!"

"What if you die?" He didn't want it to come to this, but he saw that he had no choice. "He's already lost his parents once—you think he can go through that again?"

"I'm not going to die," she protested.

"You might—we all might! We face that possibility every time we face a villain. You know that."

"We can't base our actions on what _might_ happen," she insisted, her voice softer now. "So I am not going to just treat Garfield like he's an adult perfectly capable of taking care of himself when he's not. He deserves to be loved, Steve."

"It's not in his best interests. He has to come to terms with the real world."

"You don't think he already knows how painful the real world is? He watched his parents _die _; he was used by those creeps to commit crimes and beaten if he refused. He knows, Steve. What he doesn't know is that there's good, too. That he can still be loved, that he can still be cared about." Pushing past him, she concluded, "I'm doing what's best for him."

"What's best for him? Don't you mean what's best for you?"

Regret flooded him the instant the words left his mouth. Rita froze, hand on the doorknob. "What?"

"You want to play mom," he said simply, struggling to find a way to say this without sounding like a complete and total jerk. "And I get that, Rita, I swear I do. But you can't play this game with Garfield, not when so much is at stake. You're not his mother."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Steve," she sneered, but he heard the tears in her voice.

"Please, Rita, listen—"

"No!" She whipped around. "I've always wanted children. But when I got these powers, when I joined this team, I knew I couldn't have them. It was too dangerous to bring them into this kind of life. But that doesn't stop the pain. To see women with their babies, playing with their kids? It kills me inside because no matter how much I want that to be me, I know it can't." A tear broke free, tracing its way down her cheek, and he fought the urge to wipe it away. "And then Garfield came. And maybe he's a hero, but that doesn't make him any less of a child. So don't you _dare_ tell me what I'm doing it wrong. Because he needs me and I need him."

"Rita—"

It was too late. She was out of the room, storming up the stairs.

With a sigh, he sat down heavily at his desk and leaned his head on his hand, wishing he hadn't said anything at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Chapter 2

She sat on her bed, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, staring into the darkness, Steve's words echoing in her mind. The tears had stopped, but a dull ache still gripped her.

Garfield wasn't her son. Not biologically. In every other sense, he was. He was a child who needed love and protection, who sought acceptance and compassion. And she filled the role of mother because her maternal instincts, always pounding within her, finally found an outlet. They were two halves to a whole; it was perfect.

But maybe it wasn't. Maybe Steve was right—it was wrong of her to do this, to embody what Garfield had lost when there was the chance of her being stolen from him. Death was constantly on the back of their minds. _For the safety of the world, at all costs_. Their oath. Their duty.

Even now, she would honor that. Without hesitance, she would give her life in order to preserve the future. A future where Garfield would again be motherless.

She didn't deserve him. A true mother would put her child before all else. She couldn't. No, she _wouldn't_. All the bedtime stories and goodnight kisses and hidden sweets would mean nothing, not when he would be left to grapple with the trauma of a second betrayal.

This charade, this game…she was thinking about herself, her own yearning for a child to love. She had given him a false sense of security, a belief that he could return to normalcy. It was a lie. A fairy tale without a guaranteed happily ever after.

She had to stop. There was no other option. It would kill her, break her heart into a thousand pieces, but this had gone on far too long. Garfield's well-being was more important than her own happiness, and it was about time she put him first, stopped living out the fantasy she imagined every day since childhood because she was not his mother—

A timid knocking brought her attention to reality. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was almost one in the morning. Only one person came to her room this late.

"Come in, Garfield."

The boy opened the door and approached her, hiccupping slightly and rubbing his eyes.

"Another nightmare?" she asked gently, kneeling before him.

Nodding, the whimpered, "I saw them d-die. And they k-kept asking me to save them and I _tried_ but I c-couldn't m-morph and all I c-could do was w-watch as they went under and they w-were sc-sc-screaming…" Fresh tears came, streaming down his face, and he threw himself into her. "And, and then, I was with you g-guys and we were fighting the v-villains but I d-didn't listen to Mento so he m-made me leave and I was all a-alone again."

"Oh, Garfield," she breathed, hugging him tightly to her. "I'm so sorry."

"I d-don't want to be k-kicked off the t-team. I d-don't want to b-b-be alone."

"You will never be alone," she promised.

"But Mento said—"

"Even if you weren't on the Patrol, you would still be part of this family. We will never send you away."

"You m-mean it?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

She was doing it again and she knew, in the back of her mind, that it was _wrong _because there was always that chance that he could lose them, always the possibility of him watching another family be ripped from him. But as he clung to her, trembling, his tears landing on her neck, she didn't care. He needed her to be his mother. And she could do that.

Soothingly, she rubbed his back, never stopping until the tears ceased and his breathing became regular. Kissing his forehead, she asked, "Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Let's get you back to your room."

Wrapping his shirt around his hands, he pleaded, "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

This was the ultimate test. If she crossed this line, there was no chance of ever going back.

"Sure you can."

She lifted him onto the bed and tucked him in. Running her fingers through his hair, she whispered, "Do you want me to tell you the story of _The Princess and the Frog_?"

"Yes, please."

Gently, she began, telling him the tale she told him every night because it comforted him, hearing about the frog finding someone to love him for who he was. Exhausted from the nightmare and crying, Garfield was already moments from sleep only a quarter into the story. Just as she got to the part of the frog retrieving the girl's golden ball, he murmured, "I love you Rita."

Her voice faltering, she stared at the small form before her, already on the brink of sleep. After a moment, she returned, "I love you, too."

They weren't family, not biologically. She couldn't assure him a perfect future without pain or suffering. She couldn't put him first above all else. But she could love him—she _did_ love him. And he loved her.

And that was enough.


End file.
